


Ivory Girl

by Ked



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Kinda, Nines POV, Nines likes you back but he doesn't know it, One Shot, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Reader-Insert, fem!reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25900738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ked/pseuds/Ked
Summary: "How many painstaking, laborious hours would it take to replicate the stretch of your smile, or the happy crinkles in the corner of your eyes? What engineer could possess the adoration and patience to sculpt the slope of your cheekbones, to perfect the subtle dip of your brow? Nines could provide them with a reference if they wished; he had committed the image of your face to memory."Nines contemplates the reason why you're always on his mind, and why that should be impossible.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 87





	Ivory Girl

**Author's Note:**

> My first entry to the DBH fandom!! Finally!! I feel like I should add that my interpretation of Nines is a little different than what I've seen from some other authors? He's often depicted as this kind of suave smart ass, but I honestly think that at least pre-deviancy he'd just be stoic and blunt for the most part. Like he's definitely judgy as hell, but doesn't really say it out loud. Idk that's just my interpretation lmao. It's sort of briefly explained in this fic why he acts that way. Also, this is mostly just Nines' thoughts so if you came here for romance i'm so sorry :( Anyways, please leave a comment if you enjoy, and hopefully there will be more DBH content from me in the future :)

It was unusual to be standing in a room full of DPD officers and not feel the weight of poorly concealed ire upon him. Of course some had thrown him a distrustful glance at the beginning of the night, clearly confused and put off by his presence, but almost everyone in attendance had become too intoxicated to even remember his existence. Even Detective Reed, who derived the utmost pleasure out of belittling Nines, hadn’t acknowledged him since his initial insulting remark of the evening; a slurred phrase starting with “tin can” and ending with “go fuck yourself.” They were the same words he’d heard countless times before. Nines wondered if anything original would ever make its way out of Detective Reed’s mouth. 

Many humans and androids alike would feel uncomfortable in his position, standing stiff and alone in a secluded corner as far away from the action as possible. His predecessor’s social adaptation programming would urge him to find his way into the crowd and attempt to integrate himself with his “coworkers”. But Nines, programmed with differing skills and objectives than Connor, felt no unease standing apart from the crowd-only calm indifference.

Removed from the throng of mingling humans was where he did his best work. From his vantage point he could take in the entire room and survey every entrance and exit with a flick of his eyes. Nothing would take him by surprise. Interacting with his “colleagues” on an individual basis could provide no tactical advantage, nevermind that it was supposedly the  _ socially acceptable _ course of action _.  _ There was nothing worthwhile that wading through the inebriated, rowdy crowd of DPD officers could offer him. Well, almost nothing. 

Nines scanned the throng of people until he spotted you, zeroing in on your slowly swaying profile. Flashing lights outlined your silhouette, requiring Nines to adjust his optical units in order to make out details. It wasn’t the first time he saw you since your arrival (he had made a point of cataloging every person who walked through the door), but only now did he take a moment to truly analyze your attire. 

You’d dressed up for the night, claiming it was finally time to wear the dress that had been collecting dust in the back of your closet. Nines wished you hadn’t. As he studied you from across the room, he couldn’t help but feel that the thin straps and short skirt left you too exposed and didn’t offer much protection from potential attackers-or his eyes. And you’d have trouble running or defending yourself from an assailant in those heels. His eyes lingered on the graceful slope of your calf for a moment before darting back up.

There were many facets of the human body that his creators had never quite succeeded in replicating. Androids were intended to mimic humanity, and yet they were programmed to be predictable and unchanging. Humans were dynamic by nature, continuously morphing as layers of muscles and tendons flexed and relaxed in endless rolling waves, their personalities altering in the same continuous cycle. Your hips undulated in a smooth rhythm he’d never seen an android replicate, not even the Eden Club models who had been created as the pinnacle of sensuality. There was an unmistakable stutter there, as you shifted your weight back and forth, a tiny hitch that an Eden Club programmer would have eradicated or never even thought to include. His eyes followed that faltering pattern for a moment, surmising that it must stem from a previous injury, before darting up to your head. 

You threw your head back in laughter, and there he saw another aspect of human physiology Cyberlife had yet to capture: the graceful curve of your neck. How many painstaking, laborious hours would it take to replicate the stretch of your smile, or the happy crinkles in the corner of your eyes? What engineer could possess the adoration and patience to sculpt the slope of your cheekbones, to perfect the subtle dip of your brow? Nines could provide them with a reference if they wished; he had committed the image of your face to memory. As he had with all of his coworkers due to his facial recognition programming. Although he didn’t find himself lingering on images of their faces for nearly as long.

You laughed harder, shoulders shaking in response to something the man dancing across from you said. Your hand found his shoulder and rested gently there. It laid there for a total time of 5.62 seconds, information Nines immediately filed away for later analysis. For a moment your body temperature fluctuated higher, and through a mixture of his pre-construction software and internal temperature sensors Nines could simulate warmth of your hand as if it rested upon his shoulder.

Nines scanned the face of the man, running through the criminal database with no results before identifying him from memory. The man was a fellow detective he’d seen you speaking to a couple times at the station. Your few interactions with him had never hinted that you were more than acquaintances, but he knew intoxication often had a way of lowering social inhibitions. You knew this man, and he was most likely not a threat. Upon determining this, all within the span of a few moments, Nines continued his assessment of you. 

Physicality isn’t the only thing he doubted Cyberlife would have an easy time recreating. There was a certain quality to you he had yet to fully discover or quantify. Nines was used to breaking human behavior down into data he could analyze, but whatever it was seemed too nebulous to grasp. If he was capable of human emotion, he would be disconcerted that his programming-which was designed for the very purpose of analyzing suspect’s personalities-had failed to identify what kept drawing him to you. 

Why did you constantly run through his mind, from the moment he rebooted in the morning to late nights spent analyzing evidence? It was ridiculous that he spent precious moments he could be using to further his mission playing back footage of you smiling. He couldn't shake the inexplicable urge to solve you, even though it held no importance to his primary function. There had been a time when he could easily push the issue aside, just another mission prioritized below his main directive. However, the longer you remained unsolved, the more he felt something akin to frustration bubbling up inside. 

What was it about you that called his undivided attention when you breezed into work in the morning, throwing a quick greeting his way everyday like clockwork? Why did his thirium pump begin to work faster after you thanked him for bringing you a coffee, or when you approached him at a crime scene with a relaxed smile? At first your friendly acknowledgement of his existence had deserved focus as it was an outlier in the sea of sneering faces he’d become used to. But even after your 234th greeting, or the 56th time you’d casually entered his personal space as if it was nothing at all, he still felt his processor whir with interest.

Nines’ jaw clenched in a mimicry of human tension. The song had changed from something mellow to a faster paced tune. Your partner had turned from you, now talking animatedly with someone else. You didn’t seem to mind, or even notice. You danced by yourself, alone in a sea of faces with only the thumping bass as your companion. Nines recognised he’d been staring for far too long, but couldn’t bring himself to look away. If he’d been there, Connor would have admonished him for his actions. No doubt he’d tell him he was acting rude, that staring at someone so intensely was socially unacceptable and could cause discomfort. As if Nines didn’t already know that. As if he didn’t wish he could stop.

The worst part of it all was that you hardly seemed to notice his attention constantly lingering upon you. You didn’t see his eyes flicker when you waved at him in the morning with a bright smile plastered across your face, or his shoulders tense when he handed you coffee and your fingers brushed for a fleeting moment. His job was to evaluate suspects, to get under their skin, but you were impenetrable. An enigma that appealed to both his primary functions as well as these budding pseudo-emotions within.

Nines didn’t flinch when Hank’s hand landed hard on his shoulder, although he did automatically tense in preparation for a fight. The lieutenant was known for his tendency to become hostile when drunk, and Nines wasn’t exactly on good terms with him. He remained still as he glanced at Hank from the corner of his eye, only to find him gazing off into the crowd. Nines tracked his gaze until he landed upon you. Both looked at you for a moment, a quiet tension building. After a moment, Hank began laughing boisterously, obviously quite a few drinks in already, and gave his shoulder a firm pat. 

“Y’know, back in my day you’d at least buy a girl a drink before making eyes at her.” 

“I’m not sure I understand your meaning, Lieutenant Anderson.” Nines responded, stoic as ever. 

Hank scoffed and jostled Nines’ shoulder before finally letting him go. The android didn’t need to look at Hank to know he was smirking. He could hear it in his voice. 

“Oh like hell you don’t understand. Your eyes have been glued to her all night. Even Connor knows something is up, which is surprising cause he usually knows jack shit about this stuff.”

Nines’ only visible reaction was the slow quirk of his eyebrow, “And what exactly, Lieutenant, is  _ this stuff _ ?”

Hank barked out another laugh, and Nines vaguely defined the current that jolted through him as irritation. Across the floor you’d stopped dancing, although your hips did sway idly as you scrolled through your phone. Distantly, Nines thought about how often you spent hours of your day staring at a screen, how such exposure was damaging to the human retina. He’d have to advise you later to shorten your screen time for your own well-being. 

Nines didn’t realize he’d tuned Hank out in favor of tracing the lazy sway of your hips until he touched him again. This time the pat on his shoulder was friendly, encouraging almost. 

“-and I know you’re new to this whole emotions business but if Connor could get there then maybe-” 

“I am not deviant, Lieutenant.” Nines cut him off. “I do not experience the same malfunctions as my predecessor. I assure you that any emotional capability you see within me is false, most likely projected by you.” 

Hank was silent for a moment, most likely trying to decide whether or not it was worth his time to argue. Knowing the lieutenant and his general uneasiness towards him, Nines figured his words would be enough to send him back to the bar or wherever he came from. Instead, Hank let out a quiet sigh. Nines finally turned to face him, staring at him with a cold, placid expression. 

“Listen, maybe you don’t see it now, but you will one day. It’ll hit you like a fucking train. And a pretty girl like that is not gonna wait around forever. God knows why she likes  _ you _ of all people, but she does. Let’s just hope you realize what you’ve got before she realizes she can do better.” 

Hank gave a final nod in your direction before walking off, his hand slipping off Nines’ shoulder like dead weight. Nines stared after him for a moment before turning back to you, gritting his teeth as Hank’s words bounced around in his head. 

Nines tried to ignore the echoing, tried to focus himself by rechecking the entrances and exits. He skimmed over the crowd, willing himself not to look at you. He knew what the lieutenant was insinuating and wanted desperately to prove him wrong, but it was a losing battle. When he did finally give in and let himself look towards the spot where you’d previously stood, all he found was empty space. 

Nines decided that it was time for him to leave. He was convinced he had sufficiently met his social obligations for the night. He’d shown up, interacted with the few officers that would acknowledge him, and even had a conversation with Connor. With no reason to stay, it was best he got back to the station to finish up some work. 

Cold wind met him instantly as Nines pushed the front door open. While the cold caused him no physical discomfort, he did experience a mild pinch of irritation as a particularly gusty breeze blew his hair and tie out of place. Nines adjusted himself as he waited on the street corner for his taxi to arrive. As his thoughts began to idle, Hank’s echoing words became louder once more. Nines tugged his tie harshly in an effort to distract himself, resolute not to entertain his silly delusions. He focused on what he would work on back at the station instead. This night had caused him nothing but endless frustration, and the thought of his work was calming. At least there everything made sense, and there were no annoying drunkards to bother him or insinuate idiotic things. 

Nines didn’t turn around when he heard the door opening behind him, expecting an officer to come stumbling out. Perhaps if he stood completely still they wouldn’t notice him and he could avoid harassment. He could hear quiet shuffling but not much else over the sounds of the city. All was quiet for a moment, and then- 

“Oh hey, Nines. What a coincidence meeting you here.”

Nines remained still, silently debating whether to engage you or not. While he found that a conversation would serve no meaningful purpose, he knew it would be considered rude to not acknowledge you. As he slowly turned towards you. Nines distantly hoped Hank wasn’t watching through the window. Then again, perhaps he’d sent you out here in the first place. 

“Hello, detective. This meeting is not coincidental in the slightest, we were both invited to this party and there was a very high probability you would see me tonight.” 

You chuckled, taking his cold behavior in stride. It was typical of you to give him the benefit of the doubt, writing off his bluntness as social inexperience rather than intentional rudeness. Nines didn’t know if this was out of an attempt to be friendly or naivety. Either way, it made making you go away far more difficult. 

“I was just joking Nines, although I am surprised you showed up.” You shuffled over until you stood before him, folding your arms in front of you. “I didn’t think parties were your thing, figured you’d rather stay at the station by yourself.”

He narrowed his eyes at the goosebumps breaking out across your arms. Another disadvantage of your outfit choice; it offered no protection against the cold. He thought a successful detective such as yourself would anticipate something like that. Then again, perhaps you’d intentionally decided to sacrifice comfort for the sake of fashion. Foolish, if you asked him. The only person who’d stared at you that intently all night was him.

“I am not programmed with a preference for either. I will go wherever I am ordered.”

You gave him a strange look as you slowly began to rub your bare shoulders. He didn’t need to scan you to know your body temperature was dropping. Your nose was flushed red in stark contrast to the rest of your face. Nines knew the cold must be uncomfortable for you, and yet, you stayed, shivering with eyebrows pinched in concern. The itching feeling he’d tried so hard to destroy bubbled up within him again, tugging at his thoughts mercilessly.

Your mouth opened momentarily, then snapped shut as you seemed to think better of your retort. A gentle smile settled on your face instead, eyebrows raised in questioning.

“Well what preferences  _ are _ you programmed with then? I mean what do you do when no one’s ordering you around?”

Nines  _ almost _ made an obligatory statement refuting the claim that he was capable of having any kind of personal preference, but ultimately decided to abstain. As a strong supporter of the deviant movement, he knew asserting his lack of emotions would be lost on you.

“When I’m not solving cases for the DPD, as is my prime directive, or reporting to Cyberlife on the success of my missions, I often stay at the station and complete various desk work or analyze cold cases. I’m waiting for a taxi to take me there now.”

Something unfamiliar passed through him as you playfully rolled your eyes, unconsciously scooting closer until you only stood a mere foot away. Nines could make out each individual goose bump prickling your flesh. Unbidden, his thirium pump began to speed up.

“Oh come  _ on.  _ You’re telling me you just work all the time?” A quiet huff left your mouth, a mixture between frustrated and amused. “Someone needs to teach you how to have a little fun.”

“And would that person be you, detective?”

The words escaped his mouth without his permission, and Nines couldn’t hide the scowl that followed them. Cyberlife, on its last legs and struggling to survive, had learned from the failure of the RK800 unit. In the effort to socially integrate the unit with its human partners they had made it too lifelike, too likeable to humans and thus inefficient. Nines was programmed to shut down any interactions that became too friendly, to keep any sympathizing humans at arms length. Any personal relationships would only slow him down.

So why then, did he entertain you like this? Your painfully obvious attempt at friendship would only hinder his mission, as the RK800’s relationship with the Lieutenant had hindered his. He should walk away and find somewhere else to wait, or order you back inside. Then maybe the thumping in his audio processors would quiet.

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, a small smirk spreading across your face. “Only if you want me to be.”

You rubbed your shoulders again, exhaling shakily. He detected anxiety flick across your features, the slight pinch of your brow and darting of your eyes. You bit your lip slightly, worrying the pink flesh between your teeth. Nines had never seen an android do that. He was sure it was common among humans, but he’d never noticed another person do it. Only you.

“How about I give you your first lesson right now?” You breathed, the words tumbling out. “We could head somewhere less crowded…and maybe a little bit warmer? I know a great bar a couple streets down.”

Nines heard his taxi roll up behind him, but could only focus on you. There was a look of nervous hope in your eyes, an intensified version of the one he saw on your face every morning when he walked into the precinct. Hank’s words from earlier repeated in his head over and over, a single phrase pounding in his mind.

_ God knows why she likes you of all people, but she does.  _

_ -she likes you of all people-  _

_ -she likes you- _

She likes you. 

Red words flashed across his retinas; a command from his controllers.  **RETURN TO STATION.** He was compelled to obey, to turn around and slam the car door in your face. Nines knew it would be rude to leave when you’d so hopefully asked him to stay, but he felt no guilt over it. How could he? He was a machine. Machines didn’t feel guilt, or decide to go to a bar with a coworker, or think about the hope fading from said coworker’s eyes. Cyberlife would never be able to perfectly replicate humanity and its many quirks, but they didn’t need to. They’d achieved perfect obedience, which was more valuable.

Nines was already turning to leave by the time he spoke.

“I have to get back to the station. Perhaps another night, detective”

You frowned. “Nines wait, I-“

Something soft hit you in the stomach and you reflexively lifted your arms up to catch it. It was Nines jacket, shucked off before you’d even noticed it was missing. You froze for a moment, and by the time you looked up he was already disappearing into the car. He threw his last words at you just as the car door closed.

“Stay warm, detective. The cold weather is bad for your health.”

Then he was gone, leaving you alone on the sidewalk, his jacket cradled in your arms. You stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, before slowly sliding it on. It was surprisingly soft and warm, the material feeling like bliss as it slid over your bare arms. The collar was awkwardly high and the sleeves far too long, but you were grateful for the coverage. You watched his car fade into the distance until you could no longer see it. Even with his cold attitude, Nines had left you with a bit of warmth. What exactly that meant, you had no clue.

“Detective? Is everything alright?” You startled when Connor’s voice rang out from behind you. You turned to see him leaning out the front door, a look of concern etched across his face.

“Yep!” You forced a smile, clutching the jacket tighter around yourself. “Everything’s great. Just taking a little break from the party.”

Connor could tell that everything was-in fact-not alright but chose to say nothing. Although seeing you alone on the street wearing Nines’ jacket was questionable. Still, he said nothing as you plastered a hollow smile on your face and walked back into the party, leaving Nines’ jacket on the coat rack. Maybe he’d ask you about it another day, but not tonight. As Hank had told him so eloquently, “tonight is about getting piss drunk and partying our asses off.” And while Connor knew he was incapable of the first, he would certainly try to achieve the latter.

No one noticed Nines’ absence from the party. None of the late night stragglers at the station noticed him walk in, stiff as ever, and take a seat at the desk. Not a word was spoken as he stared off into space, repeating those words over and over again in his head like a revelation.

_ She likes you. _

_ She likes you. _

_ She likes you. _

And when Cyberlife sent him a flagged case for immediate review, red print flashing in his vision ordering him to get to work immediately, no one noticed him hesitate for a moment, his mind still echoing the answer to the question plaguing him.

“Perhaps another night, detective.” He muttered under his breath.

He knew Cyberlife would never be able to replicate a perfect human smile, but that didn’t stop the slight quirk of his lips. And no one noticed that either.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  



End file.
